


HaSofer

by Maiasaura



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Armageddon, Canon Jewish Character, Canon LGBTQ Character, End of the World, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gay, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I have taken Good Omens and made it explicitly Jewish wherever I can, Jewish Character, Jewish Conversion, Jewish Eschatology, Jewish Holidays, Judaism, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Jewish Character(s), LGBTQ Themes, Multi, Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Queerplatonic Relationships, Romantic/Asexual Aziraphale/Crowley, Scottish!Crowley, Slice of Life, Vignettes, Welsh!Aziraphale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-05-15 02:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19286689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiasaura/pseuds/Maiasaura
Summary: Aziraphale had been there for all of it. For the beginning, of course. For Noah. For Avraham and Sarah, for Yitzchak and Rivka, for Yaakov and Rachel and Leah. For Moshe and Miriam. For Mitzrayim. For the Desert Wanderings. For every temple, every exile, every pogrom, every suffering.And now, finally, it was his turn.Crowley was not, really, prepared for any of this - but, in the end, what was Ha'Olam without surprises?





	1. Conversion

“I received some… interesting news yesterday, mush.”

Crowley looked up from his paper, frowning over at Aziraphale. Interesting news was not something they got – not anymore. Interesting news was that it was the end of the world, or that it was time to start the Inquisition, or that a witch had just entered an English village. Interesting news was cause a particularly odd sort of miracle or don’t interfere with something you’d like to. Interesting news, more often than not, was just another word for orders.

And they didn’t receive orders. Not anymore.

“And you’re only telling me now?”

“Well, last night I was… contemplating.”

“ _Contemplating_?”

“Pondering. Processing! Processing, I think, is the word the humans use.”

“Alright… you were processing…”

“Anyways, I’m telling you now, which is the important thing.”

Crowley frowned. He wasn’t quite sure that that _was_ , really, the important thing, but he did know that Aziraphale would have told him immediately unless he needed time, so Crowley decided to let it go.

For now.

“Did you find out that they’re sending another prophet?”

“No, they don’t really do that anymore, Crow –“

“You were ordered to report to heaven again and they are giving you a full pardon for your role in –“

“Do _not_ be ridiculous, Crowley!”

“You’ve found out that there is a new sort of gentleman’s dance and –“

“Crowley, for hell’s sake, let me _finish!_ ”

Aziraphale had one of those expressions on his face that Crowley found simultaneously endearing and hilarious – like a puppy dog attempting to embody the personality of a tornado. And it was rare, really, for him to invoke the land of the demons. Crowley pulled his fingers together across his lips, miming a zipper, before sitting back and folding his arms over his chest.

Aziraphale, looking rather proud of himself, straightened up his posture and popped his color, a smug smile spreading over his face. Crowley rolled his eyes, knowing that any deference on his part was just for show, but Aziraphale could have this one.

“ _Anyway_ , no, it seems this news came from… the _higher power_.”

Crowley’s eyes widened, as much as they could for snake eyes in the end, and he leaned forward more in his seat over the breakfast table. News from the higher power was few and far between, and by few and far, in reality it hadn’t been since Mohammad that anyone had heard directly from her.

Well, apart from you, dear reader. But does it really count, if you are from a different universe?  

 “You **what**.”

“Well _think_ about it, Crowley!” Aziraphale snapped, “We don’t report to either department anymore! How will anyone get any news or orders to us? The In –“

“If you say ineffable _one more time_ –“

“The Plan of Infinite Questions is still going on, it is **always** going on, and just because we’ve defected to no man’s land doesn’t mean that isn’t still true! Of course the Higher Power still needs to talk to at least _one_ of us!”

Crowley rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue further. After all, he never _really_ thought that being a free agent was _that_ possible. But an ex-demon can hope.

Probably.

Well, he’d hoped in the past, as a full demon, so it wouldn’t be like he couldn’t hope **now** , at any rate, when he was even more removed from the gates of darkness than ever. If anything, his ability to hope was probably greater than it had been ever since the Fall.

“ _Anyway_ , yes, I received a simple message from the Almighty, and I am to begin the process _immediately_.”

“Let me guess, you’re becoming a demon, because you questioned G-d.”

“Well – no – no I’m not – I don’t think they can change that assignment at this point. Besides, didn’t we decide we were _ex…_ things?”

“That I’m an ex-demon and you’re an ex-angel because calling each other angel and demon respectively doesn’t make sense? Yes, we did decide that, yeah.”

“Right. Anyway, angel or demon or none of the above, I’ve been reassigned to a new culture!”

“Wait… _what_.”

During the days when prophets were being littered across the planet on both sides, this was a common occurrence. The birth of Christianity had transferred _many_ angels and demons from Judaism to Christianity – and Islam had taken more away from both besides. A similar thing happened for the angels and demons of the variety of Hindu cultures – both for each other, and then for Buddhism. Eventually, everyone settled down, though some were assigned to the birth of modern scientific thought as well.

“But… why?”

“Well, I put in a report to the almighty, just to see if it would go through, explaining what happened and that I was confused as to where I should report –“

“Of _course_ you did.”

“What does **that** mean?”

“It means, why would we bother reporting to anyone at all, right now? Why, really, should we bother talking to anyone? We’re _free agents_ , which means we basically just wander the earth doing whatever we can to help the people – or hurt or – or – something. Or something. I dinnae, I still plan on pulling practical jokes, but –“

“Alright, alright, you can stop chopsing me, I get it, but you _know_ me, Crowley, you _know_ me, and you know that – well – two years is too long to not hear from anyone! I need to… to… I need to _know_! Whether or not I’m – well – if I’m breaking a rule, or messing things up, I’d at least like to know that I’m _doing_ that!”

“Fine, fine, fine. Keep going.”

Crowley was fighting every urge in his spirit _and_ body, for he had a mighty necessity to roll his eyes _so_ far back into his head that they went back in time.

“And I mentioned that… I mentioned that I had a lot of questions! A _lot_ of questions! Too many questions! You know, it’s just hard to be on board with the blind ‘it’s all according to the ineffable–‘”

“Don’t –“

“Plan’ line and so then… well, I started thinking more. About you, and the Fall, and when I was assigned to Christianity all those years ago…”

“You were one of the first angels who _volunteered_ , if I recall correctly. Didn’t like just being a ‘general angel.’”

“Well – yes – yes I did. But you remember what it was like back in those days. Bless some Romans, guide an oracle or two – you weren’t close to all the talk about the –“

“ ** _Don’t_**.”

“Well, you weren’t close to anything, really. And I wasn’t one of those angels lucky enough to be called a god or a goddess on one of those pantheons – not even a _lesser_ one. Not even a lesser _Greek_ one!”

“You might have faired better if you’d joined the lads down in the Sub-Sahara.”

“Perhaps – we’re getting off _track_ , Crowley!”

Crowley just grinned in response, a toothy one that spread across his entire face. Aziraphale shook his head in response, taking a deep breath and visibly swallowing.

“So, I was sitting there and thinking and pondering and _questioning_ and all the rest and then I sent in a request to – well – to God –“

“A _request_?”

Crowley’s face twisted, back and forth, between that toothy grin and a circle of surprise, unable to _quite_ land on a proper emotion, but he was certain it was somewhere between pride and profound amusement.

“You sent G-d a **_request_**?!”

“I did, yes –“

“Angels and demons don’t send G-d _requests!_ ”

“There’s a first time for everything –“

“You sound like a glaikit human! A fuckin’ _glaikit bastard!_ ”

“Could we _please_ stay on track, my crow, I’m getting to the point here!”

Crowley sighed, “Yes, yes, fine.”

He’d have been lying if he said that name didn’t make melt, even just a tad.

Not that he hadn’t lied before, of course.

Anyway.

“Right, well, I requested – if – well – if I could be transferred to – well – to Judaism.”

Crowley would later deny it, of course. It was quite embarrassing, when you got right down to it, even more embarrassing than the fact that he routinely now spent about 90% of his day with an ex-angel. Though, weren’t all demons ex-angels, really?

Well, anyway, Crowley would one day deny it, but he nearly fainted right there in his breakfast chair.

“And then God – well, God said no, just that word, and I was quite perturbed, because I deserved more than that! –“

Crowley was absolutely sure he was going to faint _now_. Even though demons probably couldn’t faint.

Thought, when he thought about what happened to his Bentley, he _did_ get rather close in the end.

“So I found the old guidebooks – you know, from when everything was getting more organized and we had _guidelines_ for who should go _where_ and _quotas_ and such –“

“You still have one of those? They were outdated every five years for a while there, in the 3700’s through the 4300’s, before we just threw them out and said no one could update anything,” Crowley managed to spit out, more out of shock than anything, not that he really had any to spare at this point – implying, of course, that shock is a finite commodity.

“Yes, I had the last one, the one from 4400. Managed to sneak a copy into my little cottage.”

“Why. Why am I not surprised, Azi. Why.”

Aziraphale beamed like a schoolchild before wiggling his hips a little on his chair, breathing in, and continuing, “And I pointed out, to the Almighty, how I matched the description of a Jewish angel _perfectly_ , and sure, there were only ever supposed to be 5 Jewish specific angels and _countless_ Jewish specific demons, since questioning the Almighty is more of a Demon thing –“

“Aziraphale –“

“And most of the old angels left to go with Christianity, when that was founded, because the idea of a blind obedient servant became less relevant to Judaism, really, and Christians tended to really dominate the depictions of them anyway –“

“Aziraphale –“

“And then God… wrote me back. Again. And said no. And I was on my last… last ropes!”

“Aziraphale –“

“And so then, well, then I had. I had to say. I had to just come out with it. And I told the Great One that I had never – _never_ – **never!** Felt something was as right for me in my heart. Not my choices, two years ago, not those. Not bookshop. Really, the only thing that was the same was… well..”

“Was what?”

“Well, you, Crowley.”

Crowley forgot how to function, briefly, as Aziraphale looked away and continued to babble.

“And then – then – then! God sent me back a Yes!”

Crowley forgot how to say ‘well of course, it’s the traditional thrice-denied move, which I always found rather dickish, but luckily many groups are doing away with that, pity God didn’t but I guess the bar has to be high for angels.’

Instead, he remained silent, mouth ajar, unable to form proper sentences.

“God said she can’t be my rabbi because that’s not what a rabbi is, so she said you will be –“

Finally, Crowley had a voice again.

“Now hold on _just a minute_ –“

“And that if you protested I was to remind you that how could I explain my situation to any human rabbi?”

Crowley groaned, holding his face in his hands.

“Well, alright then, it should only take a few days, just some basics –“

“And God told me to remind you that this isn’t the time of King David, but the modern era, where students have to study for _years and years_ before they go to the mikveh –“

“That _fud!_ That absolute –“

“And so I think we should start study right away, yes? We have a lot of ground to cover and I want to be in tip-top shape so no one will even _question_ –“

“Okay, that’s lesson one, Aziraphale. EVERYONE will question. A new Jewish angel just shows up out of the blue? No one is going to accept that. No one. No one at all. It would be one thing if you were just a regular convert – they have it bad enough, G-d knows – but a new _angel_? We don’t even take new _prophets!_ When you get down to it, really, no new _Sages!_ Just commentators and rabbis! So we have an uphill battle. They are going to question it to hell and back and to hell again and finally loop all the way around to heaven. Get used to that idea, because that’s our future.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale heavily as he blurted this out, a large frown on his lips. Hands shaking, he managed to pull his sunglasses off of his face. Aziraphale, meanwhile, watched him with rather an open mouth.

“It’ll take a miracle beyond either of _our_ abilities to pull this off in a way that’ll last, but fine, we’ll do it. If you want it _that_ bad, then we’ll do it.”

Aziraphale beamed at Crowley, and Crowley knew he had already forgiven him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a poor starving student who demands food in the form of comments thanks 
> 
> Beyond that, I hope you enjoy this story! Not sure how long it'll be. But, essentially, it's the story of Aziraphale's conversion to Judaism - and the surprises that come up for the Ineffable Husbands along the way.


	2. T'filah

“So let me get this straight, Crowley.”

“How many times – while we’re in here, it’s Ta’ana,” Crowley hissed under his breath, his hands holding his book tightly as he stood with everyone else in the building. Aziraphale frowned at him, ignoring the slight glances of confusion coming from the other people in the building.

“Ta’ana?”

“Ta’ana.”

“How many names do you _need_ –“

“We are two beings who rarely change their appearance to any significant degree and yet persist for thousands and thousands of years. I need as many names as I need,” Crowley snapped, as quietly as he could. Aziraphale sighed, but said nothing more in response.

“Besides,” Crowley muttered after a while.

Aziraphale looked up again from where he had been intensely reading.

“Ta’ana is probably the best one I’ve got.”

Aziraphale frowned, but said nothing more. He was a bit confused with everything going on, anyway, and wanted to be able to focus and understand the events of the service. There were a lot of Hebrew words, you see, and when you got right down to it Aziraphale hadn’t _actually_ used Hebrew in… oh… nearly two thousand years? Something along those lines; and regardless of his various roles in the works depicted in the Jewish writings, he was _never_ a Jewish angel, and really, he’d been more involved in the Iberian pagan religions before volunteering for Christianity in the early days, and at that point they had been mostly working in Aramaic.

All of that was a very long way of saying, really, that Aziraphale was a bit out of practice, and he needed to focus on the prayers if he was to have any hope of following along.

“So why do **we** need to pray?” Aziraphale continued, fumbling with his sleeves and the pages of the book.

“We need to pray because _they_ need to pray,” Crowley responded grumpily, “I’ll answer more of your questions _after the Amidah_.”

Aziraphale, being very new at this indeed, wasn’t entirely sure what the Amidah was – this was the first time he had ever prayed – but nodded and continued to read along the page with everyone else, silently mumbling to themselves. Eventually, the silent period ended, and the service continued through. Aziraphale had learned his lesson, at this point, to not bother Crowley; his face was so serious during this process that Aziraphale was briefly convinced he was a different person.

Still, eventually services ended, and the two of them walked out together, strolling through the village of Tadfield. One might find it surprising to find _any_ sort of synagogue in a small English village, until you realized that this was – almost famously – a _Jewish_ English village.

The irony inherent in the fact that the only birthing hospital nearby had been a Christian* convent was lost on no one.

You see, occasionally groups of Jewish people will, in their desire for companionship and safety, flock to each other and form small communities. Most often these communities are within a city, but they can form in other places as well. And these communities, naturally, draw more Jewish people to them. And so on it goes, until suddenly a small English village is composed of a little more than one hundred Jewish families and only around fifty or so Non-Jewish families, and suddenly, the small village of Tadfield in Oxfordshire is a Jewish haven in the middle of farmland and rolling fields and loose woodland.

*Christian, here, being extended to anyone who ascribed to Christian eschatology; in reality, this was a Satanist convent, a fact you, reader, are already aware of.

And, since this was a fairly recent development – only being labeled a Jewish Village in the 1980s – certain ancient features of the nearby countryside, like Christian-Satanist Convents and US Airforce Bases, remained unchanged.

Now why two very oddly dressed masculine individuals would choose to go there for a morning minyan rather than, say, a much bigger synagogue in the middle of London – where many odd individuals could be found – is a matter of great confusion.

If you, reader, were to hazard a guess, however, it would be because of their emotional attachment to the town and its people, more than any sort of logical decision making.

“So do you pray every morning, mush, or do you only do this when it’s been a few days since I asked you to be my rabbi?” Aziraphale asked, smiling a bit, amused at Crowley’s grumpy expression as they walked out of the synagogue and down the street.

“Usually on my own,” Crowley grumbled, not looking at Aziraphale, “Sometimes I skip this section or that section. But yes.”

“What do you _get_ out of praying, anyway?”

Crowley turned rapidly on his heels, looking at Aziraphale for a long moment. The village continued to move around them, people walking back and forth from the synagogue and to various places of employ, or to their cars to drive into Oxford to do work in a slightly larger city, or weeding their gardens or anything else individuals may do on a Wednesday morning.

“What do I _get_?”

Aziraphale nodded, eyes widening a bit, at the complete seriousness oozing out of every inch of Crowley’s being. Crowley paced around him, walking faster and faster in a circle, his hands in his hair and movements entirely too erratic.

“Aziraphale, I _get_ a way to talk to the Almighty that isn’t _personal_. That doesn’t include me acknowledging that I _fucked up_ and _fell_ for _questioning her_. A way that lets me be with this group of people I have _literally followed_ for four-thousand years. I was there when these prayers were _written_. I was there when we lost the Temple and we all, collectively, no longer knew how to talk to G-d. I was _there_. I was there when all we _had_ was prayer, when the only thing we could do in the face of our collective pain and suffering was to give praise to G-d, acknowledge who – _what_ – G-d is, and beg for help. When the only thing you can do in the face of death is recite ancient words in Aramaic that have been recited millions of times before. When all you have are those words on the page that you know connect you to everyone before you. So **yes** , I get something out of it.”

Crowley sighed, again, staring up into the sky rather than into Aziraphale’s face.

“It’s just not something I can put into one word.”

“I understand, Crowley.”

Crowley finally looked down at Aziraphale, who was smiling at him, in that gentle way that could make every flower on the surface of the Earth bloom if he wanted it to.

This smile, though, was for Crowley, and it compelled him to walk across the distance between them, and pull Aziraphale’s face in towards him for a kiss.

Such an event always resulted in a few things happening, in very quick succession:

The sun shone just the slightest bit brighter

Every star that Crowley had a hand in creating was suddenly visible, no matter the time of day, no matter how much light pollution a place might have – they were visible on Earth, for every person to see

Each garden that was in season would become just a little bit greener, just a little big brighter, and fruits would sprout on each plant which would have them

And every sort of flower that Aziraphale had had a hand in helping to create would bloom, all over the world, greater than it had ever bloomed before

Needless to say, such a brilliant display of natural phenomena was exceptionally dramatic – and therefore, noticeable – to humans around the world. Scientific literature would be written in droves around the phenomenon of the Universal Bloom. Some would blame it on the sudden appearance of the sun and specific stars. Others would imply the reverse.

Funnily enough, one Catholic monk in a particular Argentinian monastery not only guessed that it was because two heavenly beings were kissing, but that it was two heavenly beings who had – for a long time – avoided each other rather than accept their mutual affection.

Unfortunately, the monk – being Catholic – thought that one of the angels was a man, and the other was a woman, and that neither were demons. So no one, on all of planet Earth, _quite_ got the entirety of the picture correct.

Crowley pulled back from Aziraphale, who was left in something of a blindsided daze; and the sun, stars, flowers, and plants returned to normal.

“Crowley? Aziraphale?”

Both beings turned to look at young Adam – a little older, a little wiser, a little taller – standing before them, with Dog on a leash, looking up at them quizzically.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hello Adam,” Aziraphale greeted, as Crowley just nodded with a crooked smile.

“Hello,” Adam responded, smiling just enough to light up his face – and, through nothing even close to coincidence, make a butterfly flap by his head.

“We are here to join a minyan,” Crowley answered, clicking his tongue, “I’m showing Aziraphale how to daven.”

“You are?” Adam asked with a frown, “But Aziraphale isn’t –“

“I’m going to be,” Aziraphale explained calmly.

Adam tilted his head to the side, Dog matching his movements.

“Can… that happen? For angels?”

“Apparently,” Crowley snorted.

Adam’s face suddenly lit up with excitement, the boy bouncing on his toes back and forth, “Well, then you both definitely should come to my Bar Mitzvah!”

“Oh we are!” Aziraphale responded immediately, “Yes, it is in big bold letters on our calendar, isn’t it Crowley?”

“Yup, been there for months,” Crowley agreed, “Don’t worry, Aziraphale’s in charge of finding your gift.”

“I don’t want a gift,” Adam said seriously, “I would like you to make tzedakah on my behalf. They’re trying to chop down the rainforest again, and my powers aren’t what they were.”

“Nor should they be,” Crowley muttered under his breath.

“Of _course_ , my dear boy! Just send us some names and we will _happily_ send a donation,” Aziraphale said with a beam upon his bright face.

“We could also just miracle the problem away,” Crowley pointed out.

“ _Crowley_ –“

“No, you don’t need to do that,” Adam said before Aziraphale could get in another word, “I’ve… seen what happens when your lot messes about too much.”

“Aye, righ’,” Crowley agreed.

“You… make a very fair point, my boy, a very fair point,” Aziraphale chimed in, grimacing slightly. Guilt was not entirely one of his favorite emotions, and he had trouble sitting with it; but when you got down to it, Aziraphale could not completely avoid the fact that he felt a bit guilty about the whole affair.

“Well, I’ve got to keep walking Dog. See you later,” Adam shouted, walking down the path, and leaving the ex-angel and the ex-demon alone in the street.

“You know what I fancy?” Aziraphale said as they began their walk back to Crowley’s Bentley, still without a single scratch since being regenerated two years ago.

“Let me guess – crepes?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Then what?” Crowley asked in surprise, pulling onto the road and driving the long journey back into the city proper.

“Some bagels! From that nice little kosher deli on the street near your flat.”

Crowley grinned back at him, his sunglasses being set askew upon his face by the action, “That sounds _brilliant_ , Aziraphale.”

The car continued to drive down the long country streets, trees full of brilliant foliage bobbing in and out of view, a blur as Crowley refused to drive any sort of speed limit worth even humoring with a discussion of safety. People would see this car, of course, from their homes and farms and cottages, but they wouldn’t dare dream of trying to report it. Something about the memory of the car made it feel like halfway towards a dream.

“I was also thinking….”

“Yes, angel?”

“Maybe… we should move out here?”

Crowley looked over at Aziraphale with a frown.

“But… the city. And the bookshop.”

“We’re immortal beings. I’m not saying we give those up,” Aziraphale paused, “But… we might want to have somewhere to stay out here. Where it’s calm. And we’re near our friends.”  

“Our _friends_?”

“Oh don’t act so _shocked_ , Crowley. We have lunch with Anathema and Newton every Sunday afternoon. We’ve taken the Them on a field trip to the British Museum and you helped them steal artifacts to give back to their original cultures. Shadwell keeps expecting us to fund the Witchfinder Army but Tracy is always telling us that he’s perfectly well supported. They _are_ our friends, humans or not, and worth keeping in contact with,” Aziraphale explained, “You don’t just… _thwart_ the _apocalypse_ together and then fail to keep in touch.”

Crowley made noises of grumbling, but nodded in response.

“Fine. A cottage out here, then. Makes going to this shul easier and not just a once a week thing.”

“Exactly my thinking!”

Aziraphale beamed giddily at Crowley, who grinned back before stopping himself. Saying he was _friends_ with humans would have gotten him into serious trouble just two years ago, but Crowley knew this was a new world, and he might as well accept the fact that there was some truth to such a sentence.

And, somewhere in the place where his stomach would be if he were actually a human, Crowley had a feeling it would come in handy some day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW that is a LOT of amazing positive feedback!!! Thanks you guys, and I'll be sure to keep it up! I plan on responding to your lovely comments in a bit. 
> 
> I hope everyone is having a nice Shabbat, however you keep it. Not sure when chapter three will get here, but hopefully soon. As you can see, I now know how long this fic will be, and I apologize that the plot is somewhat beyond my original plans now. But I think you're all going to like it ;) 
> 
> Please comment!!! Again, starving grad student who eats comments for nutrients. Shavua Tov!


	3. Bar Mitzvah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jewish Things: 
> 
> \- Bar Mitzvah: A "coming of age" ceremony for Jews when they reach "Jewish adulthood" - ie, they have to do all the jewish things like an adult. Typically involves reading the Torah Portion for the people present, and a mitzvah project (aka a major act of community service) 
> 
> \- Hava Nagila: A very cheerful Jewish song danced to at major life cycle events 
> 
> \- Torah: First five books of the Tanach (Jewish Bible); also just the entire body of Jewish writings 
> 
> \- Tzedakah: Righteous giving. Not "charity" since it isn't considered optional in Judaism 
> 
> \- Sheyd: Jewish concept of a Demon 
> 
> \- Bubbe: Jewish grandma (Yiddish word, so more common in Eastern European Jewish communities) 
> 
> \- Bubbeleh: Term of endearment in Yiddish 
> 
> \- Zeisele: Another term of endearment in Yiddish 
> 
> \- Cholent: A savory Eastern European Jewish dish, easily prepared ahead of time 
> 
> \- Savta: Term for a Grandmother in Hebrew 
> 
> \- Pluralistic Synagogue: Not specific to any Jewish movement 
> 
> \- Bimuelos: Iberian-Jewish Donuts 
> 
> \- Rugelach: Eastern European Jewish pastry 
> 
> \- Kiddush: A blessing over a grape-liquid product (Grape juice, wine) 
> 
> \- Horah: A dance commonly danced at Jewish events 
> 
> \- Chavah: Hebrew name for Eve 
> 
> \- Kashrut: Kosher 
> 
> \- Mazel Tov: Congratulations! Also spelled mazal tov 
> 
> \- Leining: Ritual chanting of the Torah 
> 
> Enjoy!

It was hard to focus when you were in a room with a surprisingly large, frightfully tight-knit community singing – at the tops of whatever lung capacity they had available – Hava Nagila and dancing with a gaggle of pubescent children –

But that was exactly what Anthony Ta’ana Judah Jacob Jewish Crowley was trying to do.

“There’s just _so much_ to pull apart here, Crowley!”

Crowley rolled his eyes, drumming his fingers in time with the beat upon the table. It was one thing, really, to have witnessed the differences and the… mistakes… at the time of its writing – and then to have lived with those _mistakes_ for the next four thousand years.

But Aziraphale was looking at the work with fresh, fresh eyes – the freshest of eyes – and even though he had read it before, from a certain point of view –

 _Now_ he was looking at it with _Crowley_.

And _that_ was different indeed.

“Of course there is. It’s the first bit of the Torah,” Crowley snorted, unable to stop himself.

“First of all, the fact that they continuously use the male conjugations for The Almighty –“

“To be fair to them, G-d doesn’t so much have a gender as G-d is… everything. In the universe. Which you should well know,” Crowley laughed, shaking his head back and forth as he did so, hair bouncing against his neck.

“Yes but I _know_ for a _fact_ that Moses _heard the voice of the Almighty_ when he wrote this, and it’s one thing for Christians to have picked it up –“

“If I remember right,” Crowley responded, frowning, “I’m… fairly certain Moses did that because he knew the Elders would never take a female-conjugated G-d seriously.”

“Really?” Aziraphale gasped, looking at Crowley with wide eyes.

“Yeee-p,” Crowley said, popping the p as he lounged back in his chair, “It’s… well. It’s a memory, alright.”

Aziraphale leaned towards him, looking at him in shock. Crowley shook his head and sighed, running a hand through is hair while watching Adam reveal how much he’d managed to gather for tzedakah (10,000 pounds) – a mitzvah project for the rainforests.

“Do we have to rehash _every_ inch of Jewish history that you weren’t around for every five seconds?” Crowley finally responded, grumbling a little and shuffling his feet against the ground.

“Yes!” Aziraphale responded, looking positively affronted – the ruffles on his collar somehow _more_ ruffled than usual, “You have been a Jewish Demon –“

“Sheyd –“

“From the beginning, really, but certainly for the past four thousand years, and I have a lot of catching up to do if I want to be legitimate in the eyes of your people!”

Crowley looked at him seriously as Adam’s bubbe walked over and pinched Aziraphale’s cheek.

“Awww bubbeleh!”

“Wh –“

“I hear you’re _converting_! Mazel tov, mazel tov! Oh you don’t have to worry about a _thing_ , bubbeleh, you worry too much –“

“Ma’am, do I – do I even – do I even _know_ –“

“You know my Adam, my zeisele, and he said you were converting and that he was happy you were! And then I walk over here and I hear – I hear you don’t think you will be enough! No no no, bubbeleh, no no!”

“I – I – “

“When you finish with this _very handsome rabbi_ of yours,” the little old woman reached over and pinched Crowley’s cheek, as well, and Crowley was so **shocked** that he was unable to properly react, “You will be a proper Yid, and there is _nothing_ that _anyone_ can do to change that, bubbeleh!”

“I’m –“

“Have you had anything to eat?”

“Yes –“

“Not enough! You and your rabbi, you’re too skinny, the both of you. I will be back with some cholent. Too skinny! Too skinny the both of you!”

Aziraphale watched the woman leave, practically _running_ to the buffet station, with his mouth hanging open. Crowley managed to watch Aziraphale watching her for nearly thirty whole seconds, before _bursting_ into _peals_ of giggles that practically shook the building.

“Oh Angel, you should _see your FACE!_ ”

Aziraphale shook his head to clear it, running his hand over his face in an attempt to wipe the gaping expression from it.

“You’ve never been accosted by a little old savta before, have you?” Crowley snickered.

“No, no I don’t say I haven’t,” Aziraphale managed to admit, holding his face now in his hands out of a loss of knowing what else to do.

“You look _so_ affronted!”

“I agree with her that _you’re_ too skinny but I am softer than ever!”

“Oh that look on your face is going to keep me goin’ for weeks –“

“Hello gentlemen, do I need to save you from my mother?”

Aziraphale and Crowley had interacted with Adam’s former-adoptive-now-biological father Arthur Young at least a few times since the not-Apocalypse. Once to “explain” how they knew his son after the fact (unaware, of course, that coming back to the proverbial scene of the crime made them look _more_ like child predators, not less), once to discuss how Adam was doing (their cover-up lie was Quite Extensive and required at least some keeping up of the ruse), another time to pretend they had a _reason_ to be in Tadfield on the _regular_ (it was all a part of the ruse), and a final time so that their coming to Adam’s bar mitzvah wasn’t _that_ odd. Not to mention, of course, the odd time they’d run into him when going to the Tadfield pluralistic synagogue.

“Yes, _please_ –“ Aziraphale begged.

“No!” Crowley laughed, at the same time. Aziraphale made a move to protest, but Crowley would not let him, placing a hand on his shoulder and holding him back from further commentary.

“Well, if you’re sure,” Arthur Young responded with a shrug, before walking away from the otherworldly pair towards his son. Adam was surrounded by his friends, eagerly dancing in the middle of the room and eating pound after pound of bimuelos and rugelach, but he was a thirteen-year-old boy and he needed sheer amounts of food just to grow properly. Adam locked eyes with Crowley across the room, who nodded at him slightly, raising up his Kiddush glass. Adam nodded back, a slight smile on his face.

“He still has some powers, you know,” Aziraphale said before Crowley could unclench his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Crowley sighed, “I know.”

“Not as many –“

“No…”

“But still. He has them…”

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other for a long time, longer than anyone would have expected in polite company, really – but Crowley had, without Aziraphale’s knowing, made it so Adam’s Bubbe would forget her task and – instead – give the food to Adam, who deserved it more than they did anyway.

Though, if Crowley was being honest, it was rare for him to go somewhere where he felt he could eat (he kept _very_ strict Kashrut) and he he _was_ looking forward to at least _some_ of the cholent. At least a _taste_ of it.

“What does that mean, Crowley? That he has them?” Aziraphale finally whispered, as though he was afraid by letting the words hang in the air, he’d never be able to catch them again.

“I don’t know, Aziraphale. I don’t.”

Another pause hung in the air, as if dangled upside-down by its feet.

“Come on, now, angel,” Crowley finally said, standing up and holding out his hand, “Don’t leave me hanging.”

“A… A d-dance?” Aziraphale asked breathlessly, eyes widening as he looked up at Crowley from his chair.

“Yup,” Crowley said with a grin.

“But… But I only know…”

“The gavotte, yes, you won’t shut up about it. Luckily for both of us, I’m a _tairible_ dancer,” Crowley snorted. Aziraphale smiled, finally, and stood up, allowing Crowley to lead him by the hand to the dance floor, where adults were finally starting to mingle with the children and dance, now that the Horah was long completed, and they’ve had _just_ enough wine to no longer care about what Leah from Down the Road would think about their attempt at the Cha-Cha Slide (which was never going to be out of style for anyone in all of time. Aziraphale had made sure of that.)

Which is, precisely, why Crowley had to make sure to get him on the dance floor _before_ that song came on.

Aziraphale, meanwhile, was quite flustered indeed by the fact that Crowley’s hands were very firm upon his (soft) waist. He knew he had to keep it together – after all, Crowley was a _notorious_ tease – but he couldn’t really find the ability to stop _blushing_.

Which was odd.

Because he was still _mostly_ an angel.

And angels usually didn’t really have to _blush_.

Crowley was looking at him like _that_ which, frankly, made Aziraphale no longer capable of functioning like a normal individual, and even though Crowley _still insisted on viper eyes_ he somehow managed to convey emotion that made Aziraphale simultaneously wish they were alone **and** as though he wante to run away, screaming, overwhelmed by Too Many Emotions For The Ex-Antichrist’s Bar Mitzvah.

“So, um –“ Aziraphale began, quickly trying to escape from his own heart –

Being an angel, no one had bothered to raise Aziraphale properly, and tell him that this was a colossally bad mistake.

Ultimately, my apologies on that regard.

“Yes?” Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow as spinning around the room continued in an awkward fashion.

“What do you mean… take a female conjugated G-d seriously? Obviously I know humanity’s unfortunate history with sexism because _you decided to tempt Chavah before Adam_ , but –“

“Oi! Don’t put that on me, Aziraphale!” Crowley snapped back, “That was Lucifer’s bit, not mine –“

“Don’t you do what you want, though?”

“Back then? I… I _guess_. It was less that I do what I want and more the Fall was Very Recent and if I’m not in with Lucifer and the gang then who am I with? And if I’m not with anyone what do I do? I hadn’t met you yet, you know, and how was I supposed to know humans wouldn’t turn out to just be flitherdeugs.”

“So Lucifer _really_ told you to do Chavah, not Adam?”

“Yeah. Said the role of Chavah and future women in childbirth would make her the natural choice, and that human society would _never_ be good as long as half of it was subjugated by the other,” Crowley frowned, no longer looking at Aziraphale, staring off instead at some point in space that Aziraphale could not see himself.

“And… he just didn’t think that would work if I had Adam take the apple instead.”

“Crowley…”

“Please don’t chastise me.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“And… you got there late,” Crowley sighed, after a long pause, his shoulders sagging, his hips unclenching, every aspect of him responding as though he’d just let go of a knapsack he’d been carrying for years and years.

“Well, yes, I know I came down to Earth a few days after Adam and Chavah were made –“

“Yes. Things happened in those days.”

“Are… you going to tell me what?”

“No.”

“Crowley…”

“I don’t want to talk about it today.”

The way his voice broke on the word _today_ made Aziraphale, finally, drop it.

“And you couldn’t argue with Moses that the elders would just have to deal with it?”

“Oh, I did. I was there, I talked to him – he knew I knew G-d herself, but didn’t know _why_ or _how_ or _what I am_ – and he was a stubborn ex-Egyptian prince who _refused to listen to me_ ,” Crowley snorted.

“And so now we have male language for the Almighty in the Torah.”

“Now we have male language for the Almighty in the Torah.”

“Maybe we should rewrite the whole thing!” Aziraphale said excitedly, jumping a little in Crowley’s arms, “I mean, my Hebrew is getting better –“

“Don’t –“

“And it will _keep_ getting better –“

“Please, Aziraphale, maybe leave literally _writing the entire Torah_ for when you’re further along in the process.”

“You don’t let me have any fun!”

“I let you have _loads_ of fun, Aziraphale, I haven’t stopped you eating oysters yet –“

“You said I don’t have to keep kosher until I’m done!”

“I may change my mind.”

Aziraphale was so flustered and angry he stared, open-mouthed, at Crowley for far too long.

“Aziraphale? Crowley?”

Both genderless angels turned to look at Adam, who was staring up at both of them with a smirk.

“What are you bickering about _now_.”

“Nothing to worry you about, Adam,” Crowley responded immediately, “Mazel Tov on the leining.”

“Thanks,” Adam paused, “And thank you for the tzedakah.”

“Thank _you_ , my boy, for being a light to us all,” Aziraphale praised. Adam muttered, flustered, in a way that was completely unintelligible.

“I… hope that it works.”

“I’m sure it will, kid,” Crowley promised.

“Adam! You’re missing the game!” Pepper shouted from a corner, looking annoyed and glaring at both Aziraphale and Crowley. Adam waved and ran away, leaving Crowley to snort at Aziraphale.

“A _light_ to us _all_?”

“As far as we can tell, the only times he uses his powers are to do good things! Giving the homeless person the empty flat down the road, making sure individuals have food, opening the doors to those awful camps along the American border so everyone can escape –“

“Well… yes. But he still is…”

“He’s nothing, Crowley. He’s not the antichrist anymore. And he _hasn’t been_ for two years. Technically… he never was.”

They looked at each other, still dancing, now so close to each other to prevent others from hearing their words that it was not entirely appropriate for a children’s party.

“So, anyway,” Aziraphale managed to cough out, backing up a _tad_ from Crowley, “I cannot _believe_ that Moses capitulated to the elders –“

“You **can’t** believe that? To me it seems the most likely option!”

“Why didn’t you fight with him more?”

“I’m a _sheyd_ , he was going to question it –“

“Did he **know** you were a sheyd?”

“Well, _technically_ no, but –“

And, despite Adam’s deepest wishes that they wouldn’t, the pair spent the rest of the evening bickering over every detail involved in the very first line of the Torah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad everyone is liking the story!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hope you guys can see that I'm building up to it being *not just* about Aziraphale's conversion. Also, important note: Crowley has been a Jewish demon literally since Judaism started to be a thing with Abraham. He never really stopped. So keep that in mind. 
> 
> Please, please, please, please, PLEASE comment!!! I am a starving starving grad student!!! comments directly inspire me to write more!!! Thank <3


	4. Kashrut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jewish Things: 
> 
> \- Kosher = Kashrut = Jewish dietary laws. Some big ones are no mixing meat and milk-based dairy products, only fish with scales, wine has to come from other Jewish people, and no pork. There are, of course, more rules than that, and certain groups will relax or add to these standards and so on. Also, on passover, no leavened bread. 
> 
> \- Kugel = a casserole dish, made usually with noodles or potatoes 
> 
> \- Ashkenazi = Jewish people from Eastern Europe and Germany 
> 
> \- Cholent = a hearty, prepared ahead of time stew 
> 
> \- Gefilte Fish = the worst food of all time 
> 
> \- Borscht = A sour soup 
> 
> \- Bubbe = Grandmother 
> 
> \- Shtetl = A small Jewish village, usually enforced by law, in Eastern Europe; usually very poor 
> 
> \- HaMotzi = the blessing said before eating bread 
> 
> \- Bencher = A book full of blessings, especially those said after meals 
> 
> \- Sheydim = Jewish demons 
> 
> \- Kasher = Make something kosher/up to kosher standards 
> 
> \- Sefaria = the most beautiful website in the world (it is a database of jewish texts)

Crowley – as he liked to imagine himself – was a genderless being of impeccably good taste. He knew the best music (Queen, obviously), he knew the best clothes (masculine, but still somehow able to give off the aura of someone who gives gender the middle finger), he knew the best alcohol (certain batches of fine and ancient kosher wine).

And, if you had asked Crowley this outright, he would say that he knew how to prepare – and where to find – the best food compliant with the most rigorous standards of kashrut.

It wasn’t his fault, really. Crowley had been around for every iteration of Jewish thought. He knew what the original laws in the Torah meant at the time (it meant don’t boil a kid in its own mother’s milk, thanks), he knew how the survivors of the exile modified it, how the citizens of the Roman empire modified _that_ , and how the Talmudists continued to modify it. Every step of the way, Crowley had been a part of it. So Crowley could see the logic and the reasoning, and Crowley knew why it was important.

Crowley _also_ knew, therefore, how to make the food _good_ , within those stipulations, because he had followed the people he had Sworn to Join, and he had seen all their food and their little tricks, and he knew them all.

So, Crowley – despite being an (ex) demon and everything –  was quite insulted by Aziraphale’s reaction to his food.

“What do you _mean_ Châteauneuf-du-Pape isn’t –“

“It isn’t Kosher, Aziraphale. You can choose to not follow this level of Kashrut. It’s not up to me. It’s up to you. _You’re_ the one who said you wanted your Jewishness to be as tradition as possible. I’m just following _your orders_ ,” Crowley snorted, pouring some of the Bartenura Moscato into Aziraphale’s glass.

Aziraphale looked up and glared at Crowley, “But we _know_ none of these wines were used in pagan rituals –“

Crowley bit back his unhelpful comment of _bold of you to think the Almighty doesn’t count anything Christian as a pagan ritual_ and straightened up his posture, smirking at Aziraphale.

“Alright, so then drink the wine you like.”

Aziraphale stared at Crowley.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale.

And Aziraphale grumbled, slouching in his chair and drinking the Bartenura Moscato.

“It just doesn’t make any _sense_.”

Crowley laughed, for a long, long, long time.

“Many have come before you, Aziraphale.”

“What? We were formed before –“

Crowley made a grumpy, garbled sound, before continuing, “I mean many have _thought about this_ before you, Aziraphale, and many have tried to come up with reasonings behind Kashrut. Maybe we don’t eat pig because it’s unhealthy. Maybe it’s due to trying to avoid eating those animals of a similar trophic level as us. Maybe it’s because we all had shrimp allergies. The list of possible explanations go on and on and on and on and you know what? It is _all meaningless._ ”

Aziraphale watched Crowley with utter fascination, eyes wide as he sat back in his chair, still sipping the wine without care or concern.

“Kashrut doesn’t _have to have a meaning_. Keeping this rules about food and drink are just a _part of being Jewish_. It doesn’t have to have an underlying cause. You do these things because it connects you more to being Jewish. That’s it – that’s all there is. So, in the process of you becoming a Jewish angel, if you decide keeping Kosher is for you, and vital to your Jewish practice, then you do what you do because it’s what we do. Reason has _nothing_ to do with it,” Crowley chortled, unable to stop himself from laughing at the very thought of logic coming into his Kashrut.

“But – But –“

“But?”

“But – we’re supposed to _question_ and _debate_ and –“

“Yes! Question Kashrut all you like. Question why we can’t have cheese with a chicken sandwich. _Question_ why we _can_ have eggs with our chicken. Question! Question all of it! But don’t try to find _reason_ in the bare facts,” Crowley snorted.

Aziraphale sat there, pondering, his face in his hands as he stared at the pile of kosher cheese in the middle of the table, before turning back to Crowley. His mouth dropped open, and he shoved a finger into Crowley’s face, entirely accusatorially.

“It was you!”

“ _What?_ ”

“This was _your_ demonic work!”

And now Crowley laughed, harder than he ever had before.

“ _My demonic work?_ ”

“Why _else_ would such a thoughtful, careful people come up with _such_ a –“

“Angel, leaving aside the fact that you’re forgetting we’re also a petty and grumbling people, which group of us – angels or demons –  was responsible for the French Revolution?”

“I – er –“

“Which group of us was responsible for the Inquisition?”

“Um…”

“Oh, and right, which of us was behind the Crusades?”

“Crowley –“

“You get my point. No, this wasn’t my demonic work. Humans, much like angels and demons, can only remember _so many things_ over the course of _four thousand years_. They forgot. They built on things they forgot, and built on _those_ things after they were forgotten, and so on and so forth until now the modern descendant is so removed from the original logic that even _I_ , a _demon_ , have forgotten it. This wasn’t my demonic work, or the work of some brilliant angel,” Crowley snorted, taking a bite out of an apple, “This was just people _being people_.”

“Well. When you put it that way,” Aziraphale sighed, “It makes sense.”

“Indeed it does.”

“And it hasn’t changed since the Talmud?”

“Oh I mean of course it has,” Crowley laughed, “There have been additions and modifications aplenty as the world changed and the way we interacted with it changed alongside it. Dozens and dozens and dozens of changes. Even now, more progressive groups are adding fair trade and environmental preservation to their rules of Kashrut, because ethical eating isn’t just about doing what our ancestors did.”

“Do you follow that?”

“I did, well, secretly anyway. I also just rarely ate because finding Kosher food is hard.”

“Right…”

“But if the other demons had gotten wind that I only ate fair-trade tomatoes I’d have lost my job and potentially my life, so, it was worth it to not mention anything.”

“And now?”

“Who gives a flying numpty-dongle what they think?”

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley, who smiled back, the two of them happily eating fruit together in comfortable silence. They broke into the kugel, Crowley happy to be feasting on the crisp noodles and cheese, but Aziraphale looked less thrilled.

“Is this all I have to look forward to?”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale silently, rather than respond with words of his own.

“ _Kugel?_ ”

Crowley laughed for a long minute, unable to really contain himself. The utter horror on Aziraphale’s face was endearing, if a little bit of a sting given how hard Crowley had worked on the kugel.

He had made it _for_ Aziraphale, after all, and he couldn’t at least _pretend_ to like it?

“Kosher food is as diverse and as beautiful as the people who make it, Aziraphale. There are lots of different foods to try and they come in many different varieties, and I’m sure we’ll find the kind you like. I just figured I’d get you used to the kind you’ll encounter the most – Ashkenazi food,” Crowley snorted.

“And this is what it’s like?”

“Well, there’s of course cholent, and matzo-ball soup, and bagels, and gefilte fish, and borscht, and liver, and –“

“I get it, I get it. Poor Eastern Europe food.”

“We live in _Britain_. We shouldn’t throw stones about food.”

“Well that’s why I go to France!”

“Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale glared at Crowley who rolled his eyes and pulled off his glasses.

“Imagine you’re a little old bubbe in the shtetl, and you need to make your food stretch across all of the members of your family for Shabbat. You need to feed your children and your husband, but also your siblings and your parents and your nieces and nephews. And you just have potatoes, beets, and some onions, and your challah. You don’t have much else to work with.”

Crowley looked down at the remains of his kugel, smiling a little at memories gone by.

“This is practically ambrosia.”

Aziraphale sighed, “How much am I going to disrespect your people during this process?”

“Oh, you’re disrespecting no one, Angel. It’s good you’re asking questions,” Crowley paused, “But you need to try to keep history in mind. Shouldn’t be hard, you lived through it.”

“I don’t think I ever really went to Eastern Europe during the early modern period, mush.”

“Well, there was beauty in it. I had trouble seeing past how they locked up and shut away my people, but there was a beauty there,” Crowley sighed, “Are you done with your kugel? And fruit?”

“Yes, I think so –“

“And the challah?”

“Of course. It’s such a _thick_ bread.”

“Sometimes, that was the only meal you really had. Alright, let’s bless together.”

“Bless? Do we say the HaMotzi again?”

“Nae, angel. We say the blessing _after_ meals. It’s longer. Here.”

Crowley handed Aziraphale a copy of his bencher, though Crowley didn’t really need one, having said this after most meals for most of his existence (since the blessing had been written, anyways).

“Shir hamaalot b’shuv Adonai –“

The two mumbled the words together, going through the highs and lows from word to word, from a song to pilgrims to praising the goodness brought by the Almighty, for being freed from slavery, for giving everyone food, for compassion for the Jewish people, for the strength to observe the mitzvot, for the renewal of the Jewish people, for the compassion shown by the Almighty, and ending with a song about the Almighty as the merciful, more requests for blessings, and more songs of peace.

It was long, but Aziraphale was at least somewhat engrossed and enthralled with the words, and Crowley was happy to see it.

“Crowley?”

“Mhm?”

“How do you say all these words, asking the Almighty for blessings, that kind of thing?”

“It’s never been hard. The words aren’t really for me – we’ve talked about this. And I can ask the Jewish people for blessings.”

Aziraphale frowned, “You aren’t worried that would bring the opposite?”

“No. I’m never worried. G-d made these rules – made the rules that sheydim need to follow the mitzvoth, which also includes things like this, and prayer, and all the rest. The Almighty might be… ineffable… but if she’s _really_ so awful as to doom her _chosen people_ by making demons for them that will curse them constantly, then… what’s the point? To any of this?”

“Yes, I would like to think that the Almighty isn’t… this… cruel.”

“We hope.”

“We hope.”

Aziraphale poked at the remains of his kugel, looking at the bits of noodle forming a sort of paste at the bottom as they glued to the ceramic of the plate.

“Though, one has to wonder…”

“Yes?”

“Well. Maybe Kashrut doesn’t have to make _sense_. But shouldn’t it at least be _easy_ to carry out?”

“Aziraphale –“

“There are so many rules to follow!”

“Welcome to Judaism!”

“Why in _heaven’s name_ isn’t a dishwasher good enough to get things cleaned? Why does koshering dishes have to have such standards?”

“Let me pull up things on Sefaria –“

“No, I’m not done _rambling_ yet, Crowley. And let’s not even get me _started_ on what I have to look forward to come Passover –“

“Luckily for us all, that’s quite a way’s away.”

“Good, because I’m not looking forward to cleaning for that at all. And how _dare_ I not be able to have bread!”

“You’ll be fine. You don’t even technically have to eat.”

“You take that back!”

“I’m not wrong, Angel!”

“But no _good food_ for _ages_ –“

“I’m good at Passover cooking, you’ll be fine Angel –“

“I will _not_ be fine!”

“You’ll be fine!”

“I will not!”

“You will!”

“Will not!”

I wish I could tell you, reader, that soon enough this fight petered out, and they went on to discuss more important things such as whether or not an elephant could be used as a side for the sukkah. However, being an ex-angel and an ex-demon – and two stubborn, talkative ones at that – they were able to continue this argument for many more hours, unable to stop until they were practically physically fighting about it – and then their minds turned to other matters entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your wonderful comments on the last chapter!!! They were really amazing. I'm sorry it's taken me a while to update - I'm actually working on a "Judaism 101" post with the rest of the Jewish Good omens Lads, and it's going on longer than I had originally planned :O but hopefully it'll help those non-Jews coming to this corner of the fandom in understanding what we're talking about! 
> 
> Please comment, and I'll try to update again soon! :D Thank you all!


End file.
